


You Heard Me

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Day At The Beach, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: If he were himself, damn it, and not half Bucky Barnes zombie, he would’ve understood the dangers posed by the concepts ofChris Evansandbeachin the same sentence, much less the same physical space, and he wouldn’t be two shakes from a coronary.





	You Heard Me

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Shyness, embarrassment, blushing or stammering. With add-on location prompt: Beach.

Sardinia is gorgeous, despite the silly name.

There aren’t sardines everywhere, like Mackie said there would be. No paparazzi, either, thanks to RDJ. No other people, period, and bless Scarlett’s internet hoodoo skills for zeroing in on this place, this big stretch of empty beach, the kind that’s more stone than sand, tucked into a curved of dark, jagged rocks. No distractions, nothing standing between Sebastian and a long, lazy day off, nothing between him and the sea, between the sea and the sky.

Except one, one he should have seen coming and mentally prepared for, maybe done some emotional kneebends or something and he would have, totally, if he’d been thinking straight, if he weren’t operating on not-enough sleep for three weeks, if his heart weren’t pumping more caffeine than blood–if he were himself, damn it, and not half Bucky Barnes zombie, he would’ve understood the dangers posed by the concepts of Chris Evans and beach in the same sentence, much less the same physical space, and he wouldn’t be two shakes from a coronary, from sun stroke, something, because Chris Evans wearing swim trunks and a big, fuck-all grin is more than his dumb heart can take.

“Dude,” Chris says, squinting, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Get with the program!”

“What?”

“Your shoes, your shirt? Get ‘em off, Stan, let’s go. The water looks amazing.”

“It’s fucking freezing!” Mackie shrieks, splashing somewhere in the surf. “What the fucking fuck!”

“Ignore him. It’s fine.” He grabs Seb by the collar, shakes him a little, like an overgrown golden retriever. “Come on, take this off. ‘Less you wanna get it wet.”

Jesus. Sebastian feels himself running red. “No, I–”

Evans steps closer, because the universe gets off punching Sebastian in the dick. “Never known you to be shy, man,” he says.

“‘M not.” Usually. “Got a lot of bruises and stuff. That’s all.”

Chris’ face shifts, teasing kicked away by concern. “Really?” he says. “You talk to the docs? They have this salve that helps. Like, a lot. Smells like a Preparation H peppermint but it’ll make you feel less like a beat-up piece of meat.”

Sebastian wants to tuck his mouth against Evans’ neck, breathe in the sunscreen and the beer Chris had on the way over here and say, fuck the sea. Come drown in me.

Instead, he says: “Yeah, ok. I will. When we get back.”

Up the beach, Scarlett laughs and RDJ follows, their cackles catching in the rocks and kicking out over the sand. Somewhere, the waves are kissing the edge of the beach and Mackie is cursing, but right here, Evans’ fingers catch the hem of Seb’s shirt and Sebastian can’t take his eyes away, can’t lift his head, frankly, because god knows what’ll show in his face.

“You, ah, you can leave it on,” Chris says, “if you’d rather. I didn’t mean to–I mean, I’ve got a clean one in my bag you can borrow when we head back.”

He doesn’t know what makes him do it–sunstroke, maybe, the half of Mackie’s beer that he stole? Maybe it’s the fact that Chris is the one touching him, the one crowded sheepdog in his space, and maybe, maybe, unrequited’s not the right word for what’s going on here. Maybe his idiot heart isn’t too far from the mark. Whatever it is, something in Sardinia boots the bullshit out of his brain, the uncertainty, and makes him look up, lets him say: “Why don’t you take it off?”

“Why don’t I–?”

Sebastian stretches his arms over his head and finds his best, come-at-me smirk. “You heard me.”


End file.
